


Smile, Baby

by extrasystem



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Mild Smut, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:02:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23993470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extrasystem/pseuds/extrasystem
Summary: Steve has a hard time focusing when your puffy, red lips are sucking on a piece of candy in the middle of a debrief.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Kudos: 33





	Smile, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> another segment of layla practices dialogue. also i was literally quaking when i saw a baby bottle pop thinking they didn’t exist anymore but was more surprised at what was inside because i was expecting an online code (even tho the website is definitely down lmao).

You were so proud of yourself.

After three long weeks of bed rest from an incident that had resulted in Steve’s blood pressure to permanently raise, you were back on the field again. Rightfully so, you think. It was a rather straightforward assignment; an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of a small village, tipped off by an informant or whatnot that there was strange activity occurring. Search for any casualties, illegal experiments and possible links to HYDRA. 

Easy.

Fun _,_ if you dared. Especially with Sam and Nat by your side and a betting pool consisting of multicoloured jewels of nostalgia. _Baby Bottle Pops_. A dozen of them — twelve, different flavoured candies mimicking bottles intended for infants and a heap of tinted sugar underneath it. Somehow, that wasn’t the best surprise of the day. _Tonguetoos._ Tongue. Tattoos. 

Revolutionary.

" _Bet,"_ You had said, shaking hands with your competitors on the Quinjet with a hard clap. Sam carefully eyed you and the cardboard box that contained the prize pool, suspicious of the matching grins you and Natasha shared. _"You think I’d cheat over some candy, Sam?"_

_"Yes. Without a doubt."_

You recoiled, scoffing in his direction and mouthing a string of disbelief to Natasha as you exited the jet.

He was right, of course.

Nat, as expected, had been unamused by your dramatic unveiling a few moments after liftoff and had rolled her eyes. Fun cuck. Though, her interest was peaked when you continued with your proposal despite Sam’s blank stare and her apathetic snort. A competition — see who could discover the most promising lead, whether that was a person, document or fingerprints. Then, had she voiced her participation, followed by the brown-eyed boy. Try hards.

So, when Sam was fiddling with Redwing and whatever else a superhero with mechanical wings needs to do, you pulled her to the side. Jutting your bottom lip and pleading for the winnings if she managed to steal it right from under you. She nodded, shaking her head at your childish antics and returning to her seat. 

Truthfully, it wasn’t _really_ cheating. Moreso ensuring you had a 67% possibility of winning, rather than 33%. 

And, by God’s grace, you did; fairly, too. You had stumbled upon a door that was left ajar in the basement, peeking inside with your gun before being shoved inside the dusty room. In a matter of seconds, the door was shut and you began kicking the lock until it gave away. It was a century-old building with more rust than steel — what were they _thinking_?

Though, it didn’t matter because he was tackled to the concrete a hallway later and smacked in the hand when he tried pulling something from his pockets. You were straddling his back, threatening to pull the trigger if they attempted anything else.

" _What were you thinking_?"

Once an elated cheer from your mouth and a series of groans in your earpiece passed, you were greeted in the hanger by Steve who wore a confused expression at the sight of a dozen Baby Bottle Pops in your arms. 

"What are those?" He asks, following your skips into the compound and to the conference room. A vibrant red bottle tumbles from the shallow box, caught by Steve as he reads the label. "Baby Bottle… Pop? Strawberry."

You twist around, grinning at him with a smile that catches his breath. "Yeah! Ever had one, Stevie?"

He places the candy back in the box and shrugs. "Not really one for sweets."

You’re still walking backwards, gasping and eyes widening at his confession. Steve reaches behind you to push the glass door open, careful to avoid your head from thrashing against the hard surface. You never have to worry with him, least of all measly physical injuries.

"Well, d’ya want one?"

The box is dropped on the table with a heavy thud, prompting Sam to flinch when he enters the room. Nat’s on his heel not a second too long and strips the holsters from her waist and leg, nodding at Steve. 

"I’m alright, sweetheart," He replies, pulling a chair out for you and finding his own across the table. Sam strolls to the front, turning on the projector to begin with the debrief. Nat sits a few feet to your right. 

The door shuts as you rip the plastic off a pink bottle. Watermelon. "Your loss."

It is. It truly is, when Steve catches you in the corner of his eye sucking at the tip of the bottle with unnecessary fervour, plucking it out of your mouth and dipping it into the sugar-filled bottle. His eyes flicker back to Sam, mouthing on about someone in custody. He crosses his legs, clearing his throat and scrunching his brows in an attempt to pay attention.

Steve lasts a minute.

You hum around the candy, pointing at Sam as he reluctantly reveals your success and laughing at Natasha’s exasperated sigh. The tip is removed from your mouth with a _pop_ around your toothy grin and a thin strand of spit stretches from your lip to the rosy treat. A searing, scarlet blush coats his neck, travelling to the sides of his jaw. 

"Cap?"

Steve flushes furiously, blinking at Nat’s smirk and Sam’s narrowed eyes. "Sorry. Where were we?"

A curious tilt of your head and you’re sending him a questioning gaze, bringing the bottle between your puffy lips and sucking. His head is turned to the front, but he can still make out the obscene noises from your mouth and the spit pooling on the pink plastic. The stretch of his jeans tightens and the blood that should be travelling to his head goes lower. 

The last piece of evidence is shown and, honestly, Steve hates these things more than most, but he’ll follow procedure through even if it means seeing you press the pad of your finger to your tongue. He shifts in his seat and grasps at the armrests. Clearing his throat, he says, "Thank you for the debrief, Sam. Good work, Nat."

The pair grunt as they exit, watching Steve’s strained smile and the plastic that used to hold candy drop to the table as you pout, sugar lining your lips. "Didn’t I do a good job too, Steve?" The glass doors close with a _click_ and your innocent demeanour vanishes quickly, replaced by playful irises and a teasing smirk. Steve’s jaw tenses, watching you push up from your chair and sit in the chair next to him. "Steve?"

"You’re a tease," He mutters, lowering his sight to your mouth tinged a deep rose. Steve turns his seat and pulls yours until your knees knock together, leaning toward you. You press your lips and push your tongue against his, smothering him with artificial flavours of watermelon and saturated sugar crystals. 

Your puffy lips leave his, causing Steve to chase after you as you plant open-mouthed kisses over his jaw and down his flushed neck. His hands find your waist and squeeze when your teeth slick with a sugar concoction trail his skin. A breathy moan escapes his throat and, "We should go somewhere more private."

"Why?"

You wear a pretty, time-stalling smile and your hands tug at his shirt; the button-up is released from his pants, revealing toned skin. Your fingers tangle with his belt, looping it until his jeans are unbuttoned. 

Steve covers your hands with his once the world has become less fuzzy as a result of your needy moans and breathless gasps. His bitten mouth opens, but you interrupt, "Let me do this, please? Missed you."

His head falls onto the back of the chair, sighing as your hands brush over his cock. "Okay. Okay, just give me a second."

You nod reverently, looking over your shoulder to ensure no unlucky passerby witnesses the sins you’re about to commit. Sitting onto your knees with a muted thump and thumbing at the waistband of Steve’s boxers. You move your mouth over his bulge, flattening your warm tongue and peering up at pools of blue skies. 

A calloused hand pushes your hair back, stopping abruptly when you part your sticky lips and, "Is that a _smiley face_ on your tongue?"

A wave of bewilderment and humour flashes over your face within several seconds. Steve prods at your mouth and drags out your tongue to expose it in the fluorescent lights. Smeared noir and grey paint the fleshy pink, mimicking a shakily drawn smile and a pair of round eyes. If he squints, there are faded dots of blue for the irises and scarlet at the mouth. 

" _Ith a tonguethoo_ ," You explain, slurring your words as Steve keeps your mouth open. His thumb brushes over the tattoo before wiping it on his shirt, shaking with boyish laughter. "I got it from my Baby Bottle Pop."

"A what?" He questions between gasps and chortles.

"A tongue tattoo, Stevie. Isn’t it cool?"

**Author's Note:**

> so it’s a couple hours later and my mother ruined my tonguetoo with water before i could use it. this is a fucking nightmare.


End file.
